


Worse Days

by Livhock



Series: Wow I’m torturing Patton [1]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alcoholism, Angst, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders Angst, Bad Public School, Blood, Domestic Abuse?, First work - Freeform, Hope, Hurt Morality | Patton Sanders, Injury, Mention of Janus, Morality | Patton Sanders Angst, bad parent, hurt/little comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:07:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25060597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Livhock/pseuds/Livhock
Summary: Patton has a particularly bad day.
Series: Wow I’m torturing Patton [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1815070
Comments: 10
Kudos: 35





	Worse Days

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, my name is Liv and this is my first fan fiction ever. I hope that it isn’t too bad. I’m not trying to be quirky or anything, but the majority of this was written between 3 and 4 in the morning. Lately my ADHD has been causing me sleep deprivation, and this is the result.  
> In my manic, artistic state, I wrote this in intention to have other parts but now I’m not entirely sure what could come next nor if I will have enough inspiration and energy to continue.  
> If you read this and enjoy it, kudos and comments would be a great source of inspiration. I would likely feel pressured to continue.

Patton had what he called a worse day which in his definition was a day that was ‘worse’ than a typical bad day. Living in the downtown, low income portion area of his city with his alcoholic father unfortunately tended to make ‘bad’ days normal days for him. Today had been an exception.

After coming home late the previous night from his tutoring gig, Patton had forgotten to set his alarm, consequently waking up half an hour later than he should have. With no time to prepare breakfast, which was typically lack luster anyways, Patton was forced to sprint through the morning drizzle to a bus stop located further away than his typical location. He had already missed that one but still had hope of catching the next bus in time.

School came and went unceremoniously as possible. It could have turned into a normal day if it weren’t for the dreaded mile. As a senior, Patton had little regard for the importance of Physical Education. In fact, he usually skipped hanging out in the home ec room instead. The home ec room was somewhere Patton considered home, landing a spot over his own house. After bonding with the teacher, a grandmotherly old woman, for the past 7 years Patton had slipped his way into her heart. His ranking as one of her favored students had earned him special rewards, such as access to the ovens and she turning a blind eye to his antics. 

In this room, Patton not only made cookies, but good memories. Many of the underclassmen affectionally nicknamed Patton dad. In his rundown public school, Patton was far from being the only kid with a dysfunctional home life. He could count on his fingers the amount of people he knew who were content with their home and families. After meeting more and more unhappy individuals, Patton vowed to himself that he would try and take care of those who weren’t cared for at their own homes. The home ec room could be a home. 

Today however, in his frazzled sleepy state, Patton found himself forgetting about his life line. He didn’t bring anything athletic to change into. He had skipped so many P.E. Classes that he had completely forgotten the fact that he still had the class.

Running the mile was enough to ruin anybody’s day, let alone in the jeans Patton had chosen to wear that morning. He hoped, as the naive fool that he was, that the steadily increasing amount of rainfall would be enough to cancel the activity. He should have known better. Instead his P.E. teacher barked orders from where he was sat, warm and unbothered underneath the outcropping on the schools roof. Patton got 10 minutes and 37 seconds.

Running on an empty stomach did not settle well with Patton either. He spent the good majority of his 15 minute break emptying his insides out into a toilet. The rigorous activity left him nauseous and lightheaded. He tried not to hate anything, not wanting to project any more negativity into the world, however he hated the mile and that was a fact. He and his fellow unfortunate students resorted to attempting to dry their damp clothing off in the hand dryer or with paper towels. If Patton had to be thankful for one thing, it was that the rain had washed away any stench that might have clung to him after the activity. 

The larger portion of the day was uneventful. In his last period, which happened to be his homeroom class, Patton took a nap and repeated his past mistakes. Either he was too heavy a sleeper, or his classmates had not bothered to wake him, Patton jolted awake 10 minutes after the final bell, succeeding in missing his bus once again.

The rain had stopped but had left the March air cold as Patton trekked to yet again another bus stop. 

As he got off at his proper bus stop, only a mere half mile from his neighborhood, Patton could only think about how ready he was to treat himself to a shower and a snack. His father wouldn’t be home to ruin his day for a while longer. 

As he walked, Patton watched his neighbors’ houses. Each were in varying degree of decay or wear. Chipping paint, untamed yards, and broken porches. 

Patton smiled seeing his next door neighbor, Virgil, sitting on his back porch. The home next to Patton’s was a foster home, if it could even respectfully be acknowledged as one. Rather than a foster home, Patton compared it with a sweat shop. The numerous children who stayed in it were quickly put to work, making jewelry and other knickknacks that would be later sold online.

“Hey kiddo.” Patton plopped down next to his younger friend Virgil, a victim of said house. 

“I’m not a kid.” Virgil shot back, though he held no ill will in his tone. He glared, though not at Patton. 

Patton smiled and rolled his eyes. Virgil, who had just turned 13 was trying his hardest to be a mature teenager. He had quickly taken to wearing dark colors and over sized hoodies. “Bad day?”

Virgil huffed, sharpening his glare against the ground. “The other kids are being stupid again. So is Ms. Twitch.” Virgil grit his teeth. “They asked me if I prefer eating cat or dog.” 

Patton frowned, reaching a hand out to comfort his friend before pausing. Virgil had gone through a number of foster homes before this one, and some of them were quite hostile. The middle schooler could be quite spooked by unexpected contact. In this neighborhood, Virgil was the only Asian person which led to plenty unwanted attention. 

Patton signed, dropping his hand to the porch. “I’m sorry buddy, I really am-“ He was shortly cut off by Virgil who caught himself up in a miniature rant.

“Ms. Twitch too!! She still calls me Chinese even though I’ve told her a million times that I’m Japanese! She expects me to get better grades too! She got so mad at me the other day when she found out I have a C in math.” He scowled ahead, small shoulders tense underneath his hoodie. 

Patton slowly exhaled through his nose, carefully dropping his cheek to the young teen’s shoulder. Virgil flinched, a small flutter under Patton’s head before he relaxed. “I don’t think the other kiddos know they’re being so racist. . . But Ms. Twitch? I don’t like that woman. I really don’t.”

Virgil’s glower melted into a mere frown as he slowly exhaled with Patton. For Patton to outright admit disliking somebody, that was a big feat. Patton tended to avoid conflict, even going to far to tolerate toxic people. Luckily as he was becoming a young adult, he began working to stick up more for himself. 

Last year, before his “friend” Janus, an upperclassmen who more or less reciprocated his friendship, moved on to college, gave him a rather steely lecture. Patton, for easily the last half decade, had been playing house wife for himself and his father. After his mother had left, Patton found himself suddenly in charge of cooking, cleaning, and all other house hold chores. After fainting from exhaustion last year in front of his friend, Janus had taken it upon himself to school Patton in the field of self care. 

Virgil snapped Patton out of his nostalgia with a pleading look. “Can we run away soon? You’re already 18 so you don’t have to stick around home anymore!”

Running away was something Virgil had brought up a few months ago after he and Patton had become friends. Over the span of time it had gone from a playful fantasy to somewhat of a real consideration. Soon they had even come up with a date: June 13, the day Patton graduated high school.

“Verge. . . We have a plan bud. Just a few more months and then we’ll figure something out.” Patton lifted his head from Virgil’s shoulder, ruffling his hair. The kid huffed, blowing his fading purple fringe from his eyes.

“The longer we stick around, the more shitty things will happen Pat. I’m not gonna wait to get hurt again.” The middle schooler anxiously scuffed his black vans against the gravel of the drive way. 

“We still need to figure a lot out, starting with your emancipation, V. I should also really get my GED. We just need a little bit more time.” 

Virgil threw his head up, giving Patton an intense look. “About emancipating- I read online that if you get married before 18 you can get emancipated! I’m not saying we have to stick together forever but-“ He nervously wrung his hands together. “If we get married, they’ll have to let me go!”

Patton sat very still before grinning a bit and laughing. “Oh kiddo... I’m not all too... married to that idea.” Virgil pouted a bit with a slight groan. “And besides, I think it’s pretty illegal for me to try and marry you. Let alone the paperwork. . .”

“Well what if I joined the military?”

“Too young V. We’ll figure it out. Just not today... I know those other kids and Ms. Twitch are giving you a hard time, but they’re just ignorant and angry. I wish they wouldn’t take it out on you.” He cautiously opened his arms for a hug. Virgil hesitated before falling into his open arms. The kid closed his eyes, scrunching up his brow.

“If they mispronounce manga again I might actually snap.” Patton softly laughed, resting his cheek on top of Virgil’s hooded head. “I know V, I know. I guess you’re pretty... read up with them?”

Virgil hissed and shoved him away. He narrowed his eyes, however his voice sounded a bit amused. “That wasn’t even a good one!” 

The high schooler grinned, opening his mouth to reply before getting swiftly cut off from a yell within the foster home. “VIRGIL!”

Said child’s previous smile melted back into a scowl. He stood up dusting off his jeans. “I’ll see ya around pat. . . Can you maybe just think of bailing us out a little bit sooner?”

Patton really doubted that he could but upon seeing the hopeful look upon Virgil’s face, he couldn’t refuse. His throat felt tight as he smiled. “I’ll try my best. Better get in there before she gets upset.”

Virgil gave him a half hearted salute before disappearing back inside the house. Patton sighed, resting his head in his hands. Virgil was convinced that the two of them would be able to escape this lifestyle. Agreeing made him feel like such a liar. Of course he fully intended to peruse a better life with Virgil, but realistically Patton knew it would be difficult. His father would definitely oppose him leaving. Patton had no clue how he’d be able to emancipate Virgil either, let alone provide for the two of them. 

Feeling defeated from his day, Patton trudged into his own home to lick his wounds.

~o~O~o~

It was close to 11 at night and Patton had been sitting in his bedroom trying to complete some homework. Math had never come easy to him, resulting in Patton staying up late to try and complete the problems. He had draped his grey and light blue flannel over his shoulders, shivering. The house always got so cold at night, heat being too expensive to use all the time. 

Patton had been worrying his pencil eraser between his teeth when he heard the door slam open. He flinched hearing heavy, uneven footsteps around the living room. Father had gotten home. A rather loud crash sent Patton out of his seat in alarm. He hurried down the hall, glancing into the living room/kitchen.

A large man sat on the kitchen floor trying to crack open a beer. Patton nearly recoiled from the heavy stench of alcohol and smoke. He carefully stepped into the kitchen’s perimeter. 

“Cmon. . . We should really be getting you to bed.” Patton grabber his heavy father by the elbow, attempting to hoist him to his feet. The man grumbled, pulling his arm back. 

“Pat. . .” His father yanked him down against his chest, crushing him in a hug. Patton cringed despite the affection. He felt claustrophobic in his fathers arms, the stench now overwhelming. The only time his father ever seemed to show him any love now days was when he was drunk.

He hadn’t always been this way. After Patton’s mother left when Patton was 8, his father quickly aged and became withdrawn. The man had struggled to keep up with typical household chores as well as maintaining a job to support himself and his son. Patton quickly aged as well, in any attempt to ease his fathers burden. He became adept at keeping the house tidy and taking care of himself. When he got a little bit older, he got better at cooking as well.

The drinking didn’t start until Patton was almost in high school. His father was let go from his job, resulting in them having to move. What turned into a few drinks turned into a sudden necessity for Patton’s father. 

Patton subtly tried to remove himself from his fathers grip. Never had the man intentionally harmed Patton, however he was accident prone in his intoxicated state. The man squeezed harder in response, voice becoming alarmed. “You’re not leaving me are you? Pat? You’d never leave me right? You don’t want to hurt your pops!”

Patton cringed at the added pressure. Waves of guilt slid down his spine, feeling icy as he lied. “Dad- no! I won’t leave you. Just let me help you go to bed! If you keep drinking you’ll throw up again.” He snaked his arm out of the tight embrace to try and ease the can from his fathers hand.

“Stop That!” His father growled, suddenly defensive. The mans elbow cracked back into Patton’s head as he attempted to reclaim the van of beer. Patton gasped, watching stars explode behind his eyes. The force caused his head to crack back into the cabinet. 

He groaned feeling an almost instant head ache come on, pressing his forehead into his hands. His father gave him a remorseful look, stumbling to his feet, hands hovering above his son uncertain what to do. “Shit- you know I didn’t mean it right? I wouldn’t hurt you. You know how I get when I drink-“

Patton looked up at the man through watering eyes. Virgil had been right. The longer the two of them stayed here, the more bad things that would happen. He cringed as something cold was pressed firmly into his eye. It took Patton a few moments to understand that it had been the beer.

“You... you take it. I’ll go to bed just like you said, okay? I’ll see you in the morning.” And like that, Patton’s father was gone, shuffling down the hall into his bedroom. Even when Patton was younger, his father had never been too much of an affectionate man. He never quite knew what to do around tears or pain, so Patton did his best to spare him. 

He rested a hand on the ceramic kitchen counter and hauled himself to his feet. He peered into the dusty mirror that hung beside the window. He looked disheveled for sure. His wavy blonde hair had fallen into his eyes, a reminder that he should cut it once the weather started getting warmer. After he removed the cool beer can from his eye, he found a dark bruise. He gasped in horror, trying to open his grey eyes a bit wider. It looked like a blood vessel had burst or something. The white of his left eye had an ugly red streak. He was thankful that he hadn’t been wearing his glasses.

He pulled himself together and went back into his room. He grabbed a comfortable grey hoodie and gingerly fitted his glasses back on his face. The back of his head was pounding now but he felt a little bit too numb to care. He could hear heavy snoring filling the halls as he slipped outside onto his back porch.

He wouldn’t run away tonight, no. He just had to get out of the house. Breathe in some cold air, feel refreshed. As if a weight were taken off of his chest, he felt it loosen as he began to cry. 

This was just a worse day, there would be better. There would be better soon. He’d make sure of it.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi again. So I did something I didn’t think I would do: write angst without comfort. Hurt/Comfort is my favorite of all categories, so I’m a bit surprised that I didn’t actually end up giving Patton comfort. I am so sorry Patton. 
> 
> I never try to go in ignorant to anything. I always try to do the best research I can before I get into a subject. THe subject that I have taken on in this work is something heavy. I have never experienced domestic abuse, I have wonderful parents. All I can do I hope that I portrayed this accurately. 
> 
> If I have made any mistakes, please let me know! I am not a sensitive person, and the only way I can grow is through people telling me what’s I have done wrong. 
> 
> I do have an idea for a series on this. If you want to see what comes next, please comment and give me kudos so I can get some endorphins and serotonin flowing. 
> 
> If you like it but don’t know how to express so, try to answer this question. 
> 
> What would you like to see come next? Where do you see this going?
> 
> Thank you so much for reading this!


End file.
